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The Wolves.

Emptiness is a vacant feeling. Exhaustingly numbing. Taking more than a change of course to fill the void. Drinking the oceans dry but still feeling the pain of nothing. The pain that suffocates your insides and allowing just the gasps you desperately breathe in. No matter how hopeless the feeling it still catches up to you. Excepting things to change never happens. Only accepting the words instead of seeing the actions. All you’re asking for is a chance to change it all around, instead getting a list of excuses that lead to nothing. You breathe heavily into the night, hoping for a way out. All you want to do is escape and disappear. Only then will you find some sort of peace of mind. Only then will you find the peace you desperately crave.

Someday my pain will mark you.

Everything is a blur. One big fucking blur. You can’t describe it. The rain falls freely from your face and you can’t explain it. Delicately it tries to wash away all the sentiment that you’re feeling. It doesn’t. No matter how many times you form the words, nothing comes out. Its this pain in the pit of your stomach that reaches to your throat causing you to say nothing. What’s the use? What’s the purpose? You can’t help but think that anywhere is better then here. Anywhere far away is better then your current surroundings. Leaving into the night is your only option. Disappearing completely until you’re well enough to come to terms with reality again. Weighing out all the options and finding yourself with nothing.

You could run. Run as fast as you can but they’ll find you. The deeper you want to hide, they’ll catch you. The wolves seek out the fear and desperation you carry around you. You keep running. Deep into the forest. Faster and further into the woods, hiding amongst the trees. The trees that fall gracefully like giants. The dark consumed by the fog that swallows us whole. The cold only masks what you’re hiding from. Scared to move, frozen to the touch. Your heart races with every step you take. Beating harder it pierces your chest, you can’t help but place your hands across your heart to feel it. Feel anything. Anything that isn’t the pain, that isn’t the numbing feeling of nothing. Something that once made you feel alive, is the very thing you’re running away from. All you want is a silence from the pain. You settle for the sweating fear that beads down from you. Inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly. You wish for it to stop.

The forest welcomes your pain. The cold air that sends shivers down your spine is the only thing that reminds you, you’re alive. Blanket your sorrow with mist of the night. Come morning you’ll be left with just the regret of your mistakes while the light shines through. Until then you race faster to stay close to the darkness. Race to the darkest parts of the woods, to the darkest parts of your soul that still have an ounce of feeling left. Everything that you raced to soon disappears. Just as the fog lifts, so does the sadness that surrounds you. Only when you’re alone with your grief that you truly see the stars. Even stars need the darkness to shine.

Through the darkest nights comes a sparkle of light. Giving you hope that eventually this failing dissolution of sadness will disappear. Until then you continue this race towards the darkness. Further into the fog. Further into woods. Its there that no one will find you. Its there that you finally find your peace.